


Peripheral

by Soraya (soraya2004)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-06
Updated: 2007-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/Soraya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John struggles to expand his sexual horizons</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peripheral

**Author's Note:**

> Technically, this is crack fic. It has some porn with a little angst and a lot of crack thrown in for plot.

The problem started on a Sunday afternoon when he and Rodney were in bed together.

As usual, the sex with Rodney was incredible. But what made it even better right then was the fact that it was Sunday sex. On Sundays, Rodney turned into the king of foreplay, because on Sundays they had enough time for Rodney to indulge in all his oral fixations. No missions, no interruptions, just the two of them naked and tangled in sheets that were slowly soaking up their sweat.

Rodney stretched out on top of him, pinning him down with deep, long kisses that had him writhing under them. And by the time Rodney started rocking their hips together, John was already lost in that place where he was struggling not come. He arched up to meet Rodney, opening his mouth wider for Rodney's tongue, moaning helplessly around it before Rodney drew back and started teasing him with kisses that were softer, lighter, sucking slowly on his lower lip until his head was spinning. Until, finally, he had to tear his mouth away.

"Rodney," he whispered, panting raggedly. And when Rodney cupped a hand over his nape, he settled back into it, trying to catch his breath.

"You okay?" Rodney asked him.

John nodded, still panting. He wasn't capable of much more than that, not with Rodney's fingers sliding up from his neck and into his hair, combing through it again and again. "I just—" he swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a moment, shivering at the feel of Rodney's fingers in his hair. "Just needed a second there," he managed in the end.

"Okay, that's good," Rodney told him, leaning in to touch their foreheads together. "Time is very good; we've got lots of time." And the heat in those words made him shiver all over again.

He knew what Rodney wanted from him, what Rodney wanted to do to him and _with_ him. And he wanted it too, in ways that made him flush at how close he was to just turning over and begging for it. He tried not to say anything, spreading his legs instead, writhing up against Rodney, asking without words. Until Rodney bent down again and started sucking the underside of his chin, forcing another groan out of him.

"Hmm, you love that, don't you?" Rodney murmured, sounding very pleased with himself. "What about this?" Rodney went on, mouthing along his jaw and up to his ear, catching the lobe gently between his teeth before sucking the sting away.

And John stifled his moans against Rodney's shoulder, clutching at Rodney's back, holding on as that sweet, tingling rush of sensation spread through his entire body. After that, after Rodney urged him over onto his stomach, the groans just poured out of him unfettered now. He rubbed himself hard against the sheets, loving the weight of Rodney settling on top of him and the way Rodney kept nuzzling into his hair and licking the back of his neck.

"You're amazing, do you know that?" Rodney breathed in his ear. "So hot, you drive me crazy."

The feel of those words gusting through his hair made him writhe even harder, but there was an edge of frustration to it now, enough to have him clawing at the sheets around them. Because what he really needed right then was Rodney deep inside him. He was aching for it, so much he could barely think straight, and having Rodney pressed up against him only made him want it that much more.

In the end, John couldn't take the waiting any longer, and he whispered, "Rodney, please," forcing the words past the tightness in his throat. He turned his face into the pillow and lifted his hips a little, not caring how desperate that made him seem. But with his face hidden, it was easier to ask for what he wanted. "I _need_ you," he admitted very softly. "Inside me, please," and he felt a shudder run through Rodney's body when he said that, before Rodney just seemed to curl over him breathing very hard all of a sudden.

"God, yes, okay," Rodney panted in his ear, sounding absolutely wrecked. "Just, let me first—" and then Rodney started sucking kisses frantically into his shoulder, licking down the centre of his back, tasting every inch of him before drawing his tongue all the way up the length of his spine.

"Rodney," John growled at him, lifting his hips up higher, wiggling impatiently. And they both groaned out loud when Rodney reached down to stroke a thumb between his buttocks.

"Soon," Rodney answered hoarsely, circling and pressing in with his thumb.

John rocked back to get as much as he could, shivering with pleasure. It still wasn't enough for him; it wasn't anywhere near what he really wanted. So he worked his knees up toward his chest, getting up on all fours, sobbing, "Rodney, _come on_!"

Finally when he thought Rodney was actually going to make him beg for it, Rodney held him open with both hands and gave him what he was asking for.

Only not quite in the way he was expecting.

The touch drew over him slowly, so slow and wet, pressing at the entrance to his body, trying to find a way in. It felt nothing like Rodney's fingers or Rodney's cock, which had to mean—

"Jesus Christ," John yelped. "What the _fuck_ was _that_?" Instinctively, he clenched the muscles in his ass up tight, closing himself off. And by the time Rodney realized that something was very, very wrong, John had already bucked him off, and he was scrambling up the bed, as far away from Rodney as he could get.

"What?" Rodney shrieked. He looked over his shoulder and scrambled up beside him. "What is it? What? Where?"

But John just sat there with his back against the wall, red-faced with shock, refusing to answer. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions. Mostly because his cock showed no signs of softening, and it kept prodding him in the stomach, reminding him that they'd been _right in the middle of something_. Which, in itself, was vaguely disturbing. He put it down to the adrenaline rush, that simple fight or flight response, and nothing, absolutely nothing to do with what Rodney had tried barely seconds ago.

Rodney, meanwhile, seemed to take his silence as proof that the world was coming to an end. "Where did it go?" Rodney babbled at him, looking round the room. "Was it _Wraith_? Oh my God, it's still in here, isn't it? That's why you're not saying anything!"

Before his brain and his mouth had a chance to really synch up, John heard words like: "Damn, something cramped in my back," and, "Hey, it's okay, it's nothing serious," falling out of his mouth. All of which were pathetic as far as excuses went, but they were all he could come up with on such short notice. After a while, though, he realized that there were other ways to get out of this mess. And when he did, he gave Rodney what he hoped was a seductive smile before spreading his legs a little. Not too much to be obvious about it, but just enough to remind Rodney that he was still naked and very hard.

"Oh," Rodney said very quietly. Still, despite the attempts to distract him, Rodney threw another glance over his shoulder, waving a hand in the air, looking flustered and a little uncertain. "You know, it's weird. For a moment there, I thought maybe you didn't want to—"

"I _do_ want to," John cut in. "Believe me, I do," and he caught Rodney's hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze before he drew it over his chest and down between his thighs.

" _*Oh*_ ," Rodney said again, voice hoarse all of a sudden, even though his eyes stayed narrow and calculating. "We should probably scan for intruders or something."

"Rodney, focus!"

"Well, I _would_ ," Rodney huffed at him, pulling his hand free and folding both arms across his chest. "Maybe if you told me what was really going on."

"I _did_ tell you," John insisted. "And nothing's going on! It was cramp, okay?" He glared at Rodney then, feeling guilty and trapped because he had absolutely no intention of ever explaining what had freaked him out.

He was still pretty new to the whole gay sex thing. Though, in the past few weeks, he thought he'd finally got the hang of it. Blowjobs he was fine with now, and generally anything that involved Rodney playing with his ass was good too. But his real bone-melting breakthrough had come the night before when Rodney had fucked him for the first time. Even now, just the thought of Rodney pressing into him and opening him up slowly, so slowly, until they were both sweating from the effort of holding back made his cock twitch so hard it dripped onto his stomach. Still, that thing with the tongue . . ..

John closed his eyes and shuddered. "Listen, my back just seized up there for a second," he said. "You of all people know what that's like," and he shrugged his shoulders, hoping that would be enough of an explanation. When he opened his eyes again, Rodney looked like he'd bought it.

"Yes, I know," Rodney sighed. He licked his lips, looking a bit nervous. "So do you want to, you know, from where we left off?"

John gulped in a breath, trying not to panic. Rodney was staring at him, eyes wide and expectant, expecting explanations, or worse, expecting to use his tongue on him again. Which meant they were right back where they'd started and things were about to get ugly. He glanced down at Rodney's cock, watching it bob between Rodney's thighs. And, God, that was what he _needed_. He'd been _aching_ for it all day, wandering around with some phantom emptiness inside him. Now all he wanted was that feeling of being stretched and filled, where he was on his knees with his head down, bracing himself on his elbows while Rodney sank into him from behind. But he had a horrible feeling that if he turned over again, Rodney's tongue would show up somewhere in the equation, in places where tongue didn't belong; and, _that_ he just couldn't handle.

So, before the situation could get any worse, John pushed Rodney back onto the bed and he set about distracting him with one of his spectacularly amateur blowjobs. Which were, in fact, getting less amateurish with the hours of practice he'd put in recently. Right then, though, he was so determined not to let Rodney's tongue anywhere near his ass that he finally managed to master the art of deep throating. Just for a second, before Rodney _had_ to pull him off once he started struggling to breathe.

Gasping, eyes watering at the corners, he let his forehead rest against Rodney's thigh, very conscious that Rodney's hand was still in his hair. But the grip was much gentler than it had been, fingers tracing patterns across his scalp as Rodney spoke to him softly, trying to calm him down.

"Better now?"

John nodded, his face burning. He could feel Rodney's eyes on him, watching him carefully, gauging his reactions.

"Do you still want to?"

John nodded again. "Yeah," he admitted very quietly. "I really want to." He kept his head down after he said that, a little embarrassed by how much he got off on sucking Rodney's cock, not sure he was supposed to want it that much. Though he wasn't nearly embarrassed enough to stop. Not with Rodney's cock mere inches away, still hard and still wet from his mouth. "Rodney," John whispered, reaching for him again. "Let me do this for you," he begged him. "Please, Rodney," he groaned, so turned on now he could barely get the words out.

Then Rodney just opened for him, giving him all the access he needed, letting him crawl up between his legs and settle there. "God, yes!" Rodney cupped a hand over his nape, guiding him down. "Just, take it easy this time, okay?" he said breathlessly.

And as John leant in to taste Rodney again, he felt so fucking _grateful_ that he'd got over his initial hang-ups about this. Because he could have this now, whenever he wanted it, whenever he was desperate for the feel and the taste of Rodney in his mouth. He flicked his tongue out, giving in to some oral fixations of his own, dragging it slowly across the head of Rodney's cock before he opened his mouth and took Rodney inside, sliding down as far as he could.

"John, that's—" Rodney shuddered underneath him.

Then the grip on the back of his neck tightened as Rodney pushed up to meet him, sliding even further down his throat; and John could feel himself close to losing it as Rodney kept working his way in.

"Yeah, that's it," Rodney continued, opening him up slowly, making his cock start to drip. And with another slow press forward, Rodney slipped all the way down for the second time. " _God_ , that's good," Rodney whispered, sounding absolutely broken.

And John groaned thickly around him, working his throat against the invasion, loving the way that seemed to make Rodney shudder helplessly against him.

"Please, I have to—" Rodney bucked into him hard all of a sudden, writhing at the end of it, easing out a moment later to let him recover. Then Rodney started pressing back in, shaking, _whining_ ; and this time, as Rodney bottomed out inside him, John shot all over himself, all over the bed, soaking his stomach and the sheets around him with come.

He'd barely had a chance to recover when Rodney's fingers slid into his hair again, cradling the back of his head. And he heard Rodney whisper, "I'm sorry, I _can't_ —" while Rodney held him there and then rolled his hips in a circle, before easing out and pushing back in again like he couldn't help himself.

John wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he could go for it and take what he needed. But already it was too late for that after Rodney just seemed to _lose it_ all of a sudden, grunting, rolling him onto his side and trying to crawl into him, fucking his mouth in a ragged, desperate way. So there was nothing else he could do but keep swallowing Rodney down again and again, until Rodney pushed deep one last time and then curled around him, shuddering hard, spurting down his throat.

***

Afterwards, lying there with his come drying on his stomach and Rodney's breath gasping through his hair, John felt pretty confident that he'd managed to head the whole _tongue in the ass_ problem off at the pass.

***

Of course he should have known that Rodney would bring the topic up later.

Much later, when he was least expecting it; when they were on a goddamn mission investigating Ancient ruins; when Teyla and Ronon standing less than thirty feet away. But he'd allowed himself to slip into that false sense of security, which came from five straight trips off world, where the natives were friendly. Not to mention that he and Rodney were already in a conversation about which member of 'The Fantastic Four' had the coolest power.

So Rodney managed to catch him off-guard when Rodney turned to him and said, "You have a problem with rimming, don't you?"

"Huh?" John scratched his head, completely bewildered. "What did you say?"

"Rimming! Anilingus!" Rodney sighed at him, clicking his fingers impatiently. "Also known as _'tossing the salad'_!" He waved a hand vaguely at his equipment case, clicking his fingers again, before he added, "Just don't ask me why it's called that; I have no idea."

John handed him one of the scanners, his face bright red now.

"And it's not like I didn't see this coming," Rodney went on, apparently oblivious to the fact that he didn't want to have this conversation. "Because things between us have been going so well, haven't they? So eventually something was _bound_ to go wrong. I just never expected it to happen in bed! I mean, we've been really compatible there so far. And most people _like_ getting rimmed—"

John clamped a hand over Rodney's mouth.

He knew it was far too late. The word was out there, *again*, streaming through the air, and the chances were that Ronon's super hearing had already picked it up. But that didn't mean he had to let it go any further unchecked and unchallenged, at a time that was so inappropriate he thought his face would catch fire. So he flicked his eyes pointedly over his shoulder, making the point that they were not alone, in case somehow Rodney had missed that.

When he took his hand away, Rodney just brushed aside his concerns. "They're not even _from_ Earth," he scoffed. "Seriously, how likely is it that they'll know anything about tossing the—"

"Stop _saying_ that," John cut in, raising his voice before he could stop himself, before he'd given any thought to what damage _his_ words would do.

It took several seconds for the fallout to hit. In that time, Rodney kept staring at him, opening and closing his mouth, apparently lost for words. So John decided to take advantage of the silence and he started backing away, knowing it wouldn't last, knowing it was only a matter of time before—

"My God, I'm right, aren't I?"

"Rodney, please, not now," he muttered under his breath.

" _Yes_ , now," Rodney snapped at him. "And wait a minute, you lied to me?"

John bit his lip, trying not to look guilty.

"You _lied_ to me! That wasn't cramp; you _lied_ to me! Because you didn't want me to, you know, _that thing_!"

He glanced over at Teyla and Ronon, both of whom showed no sign of coming to the rescue. Which meant there was no escape from this. He was trapped, completely boxed in and pinned down. And even if he hadn't already used the last of his _get out of conversation free blowjobs_ , it wasn't exactly an option right then.

A part of him felt deeply resentful of Rodney for putting him in that position. For doing this out in the open, not in private, where he might have found other ways to distract him. And his resentment made him reckless enough to admit: "Okay, so I might have exaggerated a little about the cramp!" Before he carried on with: "But it _was_ kind of an uncomfortable position to be in," stopping only when Rodney gasped all of a sudden, mouth down at corner, looking like he'd just punched him in the gut.

"You hate what we do together," Rodney said very quietly. "You hate the—with you and me—"

"Rodney, no, Jesus!" John reached out for him and grabbed hold of his TAC vest. "It's nothing like that, I swear!" Conscious that both Ronon and Teyla were watching them now with mild looks of interest, he dragged Rodney behind a pillar, trying to get some semblance of privacy. "I _love_ what we do in bed," he insisted. "At least the few times we've made it that far," he added with a weak smile, thinking about the puddlejumper and the labs and all the other places they'd had sex.

"Then why would you lie about something like that?" Rodney asked him, still quiet.

Which only made him cringe all over again. He shook his head helplessly, not sure how to explain that he was really quite conservative when it came to sex and that most of what they did together anyway was a pretty big deal for him. Half the time, he was just trying to keep up. Because somehow Rodney always managed to take him apart in bed and leave him lying there shattered with his whole world turned upside down. But there was only so much he could handle in one go, and that thing with the tongue—

"Please," John whispered. "Can we skip that part?"

Rodney stared at him incredulously. "You can't even say the word, can you?"

"What, salad?" he hedged.

"Will you be serious for one minute?" Rodney snapped at him. "This is our sex life we're talking about here!"

"I know, I know! It's just—" John rubbed nervously at the back of his neck, stalling for time. "Look, it makes me feel weird, okay?"

"Weird, *how*?" Rodney demanded. "Weird as in: ' _Oh my God, I hate that, and never touch me like that again_ '? Or, ' _I'm not really sure about this, but I could give it a try_ ' weird?"

John looked away, trying not to think about it. Even though he could feel himself sliding back to that moment where shock and years of conservative conditioning had kicked in. It had all happened so fast, he wasn't sure _how_ he'd really felt about it at the time. Now, the whole idea of it made him extremely uncomfortable.

"Rodney," he choked out, shaking his head again.

And he was a little relieved that he didn't have to say any more when the natives showed up and started shooting at them.

***

Back on Atlantis, things were strained.

In their briefing with Elizabeth, John struggled to maintain his usual nonchalant facade, and when Rodney stalked off to the labs immediately afterward, barely looking at him at all, John felt that vague sense of relief again. He knew he'd been handed a reprieve, one, which he probably didn't deserve. Still that didn't stop him grabbing it, because he really wasn't ready for _that_ conversation.

So he went to his office, where he wrote and filed a mission report _early_ for the first time in his career. After that, he sparred with Ronon and Teyla for a while, keeping his mind on not getting the shit kicked out of him. But by the time the three of them sat down for dinner, he was starting to feel guilty about the way he'd left things with Rodney. He tried telling himself that time apart was a _good_ thing, that they needed to let things settle instead of raking them up with angry words and accusations. And he kept telling himself that after he went down to the labs, where Rodney either didn't notice him or blatantly ignored him whenever he strolled by to chat to Zelenka about jumper maintenance.

Still, for the first time in weeks, he went to bed alone.

When he woke up the following morning, he was restless and irritable from a night spent _not_ having to wrestle someone else for the sheets in a bed that was suddenly too wide. He tried to run it off, chasing Ronon around the city and resolutely not thinking about Rodney or their relationship or about how he was quite possibly in over his head. Then he sat in his office, where he didn't think about how much he'd missed Rodney the night before or what his life would be like without Rodney in it.

In the middle of not thinking about ways to make it up to him, he glanced down at his laptop to find a new email from Rodney in his Inbox. It was flagged as urgent, and there were insane levels of encryption on it. Though he wasn't worried too much from that perspective, since most of Rodney's emails to him were like that these days. So he opened it up as he would any other email from Rodney, and—

Blinking, scrubbing at his eyes, John took another look. But, no, it was still there, right in the middle of his screen:  


  


>  **Everything you always wanted to know about Rimming, but were too afraid to ask!**  
>  © Dr. Rodney McKay
> 
> 1\. I love rimming.  
> 2\. In case you were wondering, that's both _giving_ and _receiving_.  But _giving_ in particular is what I love the most, just so you know.  And I really, _really_ want to do that for you.  
>  3\. Okay, so now you're probably wondering *why* I love it so much.  Well, it makes a lot of sense when you consider:  
> 

Then came a diagram with arrows and labels, each with sub-points described in detail, and—

"Jesus, Rodney, _no_!"

He leapt out of his chair, backing away fast, even though he knew it was too late. Because the image had seared itself onto his eyeballs, and he could see it now, no matter where he looked or how tightly he squeezed his eyes shut.

In the end, he just gave up and glared at the screen like it was out to get him. Which turned out to be a big mistake. Because suddenly he caught sight of the phrases _'sensitive nerve endings'_ and _'induce orgasm in some men'_ , both of which hooked his attention and reeled him in. Before he knew it, he'd sat back down to read more, eyes fixed on paragraph four with a vague kind of horror. Followed by mild curiosity at some of things Rodney described in his next paragraph. Then it was horror all over again by paragraph six.

By the time he'd reached the end of the page, John was red-faced and shocked and a little turned on by it all. And he couldn't help being impressed by the amount of work Rodney had done to pull this paper together in such a short space of time.

***

It was bad enough that Rodney had started trying to educate him about rimming; what he really didn't need was the rest of the team working against him. After the incident in the mess hall, where Ronon had caused the equivalent of a twenty car pile up by shouting: "Hey, does anyone want to show me how to toss a salad later?" John realized that he needed to be on his guard at all times.

So, on the next trip through the gate, he doubled up on ammunition, making sure he was armed to the teeth and ready for first contact. And with the way his week had been going, he knew he was right to be concerned. Especially when Rodney took one look around MX1-329 and snarled, "Well, isn't _this_ just peachy," before pairing off with Teyla and leaving him behind with Ronon.

There, he had only himself to blame because he'd been avoiding Rodney ever since _'the email'_. Still he thought Rodney had a valid point about the peach thing since there were several of those weird looking sculptures surrounding the gate. He counted more of them on the trail ahead. Many, many more, each one over ten feet tall with rounded peach-shaped curves and that strange grooved ball of stone at the centre. And his feelings of unease grew the further they got from the gate and the more sculptures they saw.

By the time they'd reached the local settlement, John never wanted to see another peach again. So the sight of those peach-like pendants hanging round the necks of their welcoming committee was incredibly disturbing.

After Teyla handled the introductions, he moved a little closer to Rodney, ready to protect him if necessary. Something about these people with their big smiles and even bigger peach sculptures put him on edge; he just couldn't figure out what it was. He realized that Ronon must have felt the same way. Because Ronon immediately took up a defensive position behind the team as they all followed their guide through the village, smiling politely and listening to the man describe in great detail the history behind buildings, cultural icons and various other sights along the way.

On the whole, things were going reasonably well until they reached what looked like the local temple. Where, instead of going on and on in excruciating detail, the way he had about everything else, their guide Pheroditas simply said, "And here is where we make offering to the goddess. Now, shall we move on to the—"

"Wait a minute," Rodney interrupted him. "Did anyone hear that? I could have sworn I just heard something."

Immediately, John went onto high alert. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure," and Rodney cocked his head to one side, listening again. "It sounded like a scream or someone crying maybe?"

Both of them turned to their guide, who hadn't stopped flashing that big smile.

"I heard nothing," Pheroditas told them. "Nothing at all. Now, please, let's move on to—"

The scream actually interrupted him this time. Loud and long, it was blood curdling in its intensity, and quite clearly coming from inside the temple.

John had his sidearm aimed at their guide in a heartbeat. "Okay, what the hell is going on in there?" he demanded.

"Sounds like they're killing people," Ronon growled, going for his gun as well.

Pheroditas took a step back, eyes wide. "I assure you that is not the case," he told them, sounding incredibly affronted that anyone would think such a thing. "We do not kill people; our religion forbids it."

"We would never mean to imply that you do," Teyla said, stepping in then. "Colonel Sheppard and Ronon simply wish to understand your ways in more detail," she added, glaring pointedly at both of them.

But while she was still trying to smooth things over, they all saw two men emerge from the temple, carrying the body of a third between them. One, who clearly wasn't conscious and who looked like he wasn't breathing. The men laid him down on the ground, covered him with a white sheet and then went back inside, leaving him there in the shade.

"Okay," Rodney yelled, pointing at the evidence. "So, what do you call *that*, Mr. _we're not killing people_?"

For the first time since they'd met him, Pheroditas lost his composure. "That man isn't dead," he snapped at Rodney. "He is merely resting after making his offering to the goddess."

Moments later, another man emerged of the temple looking absolutely exhausted, but very much alive as he staggered over to one side and sat down on the ground, breathing very hard.

"You must understand," Pheroditas went on, sounding much calmer now. "Some people do not share our beliefs. So, although we honour the goddess in every aspect of our lives," and briefly he touched the pendant lying at his throat. "We do not normally discuss her with strangers."

Predictably, Rodney didn't seem convinced. "Oh yes, of course this is all about _religious expression_ ," he muttered, adding little air quotes around the words before he pointed at one of the giant peaches nearby. "Let me guess: these are sculptures of your goddess?"

"Oh, no, my people have not seen the goddess in generations," Pheroditas explained, clearly delighted to have something else to talk about. "No, these represent the offering we make so that she might appear to us again. See, this part here—" he stroked one of the peach-like curves of his pendant. "This represents the supplicant kneeling before the goddess prostrate in worship." Then he touched the grooved ball at the centre, adding, "This part represents the partner helping to bring forth the offering."

Beside him, Rodney flinched. Teyla grabbed Ronon by the arm, holding on tight; and as the screams from inside the temple suddenly took on a new meaning, John felt his face go bright red.

"Of course, there are those, who do not have a partner," Pheroditas told them. "So this is where our honoured priests can help them make their offering."

John swallowed hard. "You have _priests_ for that?"

"Why, yes," and Pheroditas beamed at him, oblivious to the heat crawling up his face. "There is no higher calling among my people. When a young man feels the call to serve, all are blessed by his devotion. For it is said that if we all make sufficient offering, our goddess will appear before us."

"Is this offering made by men alone?" Teyla asked so breathlessly that he could practically _hear_ the excitement in her voice.

Apparently Pheroditas heard it too, because he looked mildly amused as he said, "You may all make the offering to our goddess."

John started sweating the minute he heard that.

"We do not demand it, of course," Pheroditas reassured him, seeming to sense his unease. "But we would be honoured if you pray with us."

He'd barely finished speaking before Ronon said, "I'll do it!"

Teyla added, "I, too, will enter your temple to—"

"Whoa!" John cut in, lifting one hand up. "None of you are going in there! That's an order!"

Right then, yet another man staggered out of the temple with glazed looking eyes and flushed skin, wearing the most ridiculous smile on his face.

Ronon turned to Teyla and asked, "Is this one of those orders from Sheppard we can ignore?"

"No, it's _not_!" John snapped at both of them. "And by the way, there are no orders of mine you can ignore; you got that?"

Teyla actually bared her teeth at him for a moment. "This is extremely rude, John," she said under her breath. "These people have offered us food and fair trade. Praying with them is the least we can do."

But John chose to overrule her, even though he'd never seen Teyla so angry. And after he'd ordered the team back to the gate, he took Rodney by the arm and then dragged him forcibly away from the temple, doing his best to block out the screams of pleasure that were coming from inside it.

***

Once he'd established that the universe _was_ out to get him, John decided to spend most of his time alone.

He stopped sparring with Teyla and Ronon after they'd both tried to beat the shit out of him under the guise of exercise. And he stopped reading his emails after Rodney kept bombarding him with theses on the finer points of rimming. Still he knew it was a temporary measure at best since he was dealing with someone as determined as McKay.

Only, things took a more interesting turn when Rodney started trying to seduce him for it in a completely inept Rodney way. Which, John was ashamed to admit, _really_ turned him on.

Whenever he caught Rodney staring open-mouthed at his ass, he literally had to hold himself back from striding over to Rodney, taking his face in both hands and then kissing him until they were both out of breath. And each time, it got a little harder to pretend that Rodney wasn't getting to him.

He told himself that it would all blow over in the end, that things would eventually get back to normal. Until then, though, he was determined not to crack under the pressure of Rodney's not so subtle seduction attempts.

***

He was in the shooting range, trying to blow off steam when Rodney sneaked up on him again. Only this time, when he glanced over his shoulder to find Rodney there _yet again_ staring at his ass and licking his lips, something in him just snapped. "Rodney," he yelled.

"What?" Rodney jumped, looking guilty for a moment before he huffed a little and folded both arms across his chest, very defensive all of a sudden. "Fine, fine, I'll stop," he muttered. "Not that I'm trying to pressure you or anything."

John raised an eyebrow at him.

"Okay, so maybe I am, just a little," Rodney admitted, looking guilty all over again. "But that's only because I know how much you'll love it. Also it's something I'm really good at, which for me is saying something. So just think about that for a second."

John shook his head firmly because thinking about it was precisely what he was trying _not_ to do.

"Was it the position?"

" _Rodney_ ," he yelled at him again.

"Because you said you were uncomfortable," Rodney forged on. "You know, on your knees like that," and Rodney took a step closer to him, eyes full of such longing that it made him flush in spite of himself. "Would it help if we tried it a different way?"

John began to sweat as heat curled through his stomach and spread even lower. "Rodney," he croaked, almost begging now.

But Rodney wouldn't let up. "We could do it with you on your back," he whispered. "I could kneel down in front of you, drape your legs over my shoulders and then just, you know, for _hours_ , or until you—"

The sudden, loud clattering on the floor broke Rodney's spell over him.

John turned away then, feeling dizzy and short of breath, and it took him a moment to realize that he'd dropped his gun. He didn't dare reach for it again, not while his hands were sweating and shaking so badly. So, for a long time, all he did was stand there with his head bent and his chest heaving, trying to will his cock back down, wondering how Rodney always managed to do this to him.

When he'd finally calmed down enough to turn round, Rodney was gone.

"God damnit," John muttered, hanging his head again. Because he _knew_ Rodney had read him wrong and that he was probably beating himself up about it, thinking he'd pushed too hard. And whilst his conscience screamed at him to go after Rodney, John really didn't want to face him right then.

So he picked up his gun and he started firing, trying not to notice how none of his shots went near his target.

***

In the end, John flipped a coin for it.

He was tired of hiding. He was tired of feeling guilty every time Rodney looked at his ass, even though Rodney had stopped pressuring him. Most of all, he was fed up with how _every little thing_ suddenly seemed to remind him about rimming. So, on another Sunday, he cornered Rodney in his room, where he managed to convince Rodney that _this_ was the best way to put them both out of their misery.

As the coin spun through the air, he was never quite sure which way he willed it to land. But when it _did_ land, and when Rodney took one look at it and said, "*Oh*," very softly, _John_ looked at it and took a deep breath.

"Rodney, maybe we should talk about this again."

"Uh-uh, no more talking," Rodney told him.

John took another deep breath. "Best of two out of three?"

He stood his ground as Rodney reached for him, closing his eyes only when Rodney started stroking his face and the back of his neck. And, God, they were going to do this; they were really going to do this.

"Rodney—"

"Do you trust me?"

John nodded, though he couldn't seem to stop his hands from clutching at Rodney's shirt.

"Then you know I'll stop if you want me to," Rodney went on. "But I promise I'll make it good for you. I'll do everything I can to make it good for you."

And with both hands still clenched in Rodney's shirt, John let Rodney pull him close. He laid his head on Rodney's shoulder, listening to the words Rodney kept saying and hearing only the sincerity behind them, very conscious now of the hand at his nape and the lips brushing over his cheek and along his jaw. He wasn't really thinking too far ahead, not sure what to expect beyond those simple touches, whether he wanted to take things slowly or for Rodney to just strip him, throw him down on the bed and go for it.

Which was why it took him by surprise when Rodney did exactly that.

Naked, on his back all of a sudden, John barely had time to see the flush rising on Rodney's face before Rodney ripped off his clothes and crawled on top of him. Then he spent the next few minutes trying to catch his breath while Rodney teased him and writhed up against him, brushing kisses down his throat and licking at his nipples until he was shaking from the waves of sensation rolling through his body.

"Rodney," he moaned, reaching out, desperate for him.

But Rodney slid even further down the bed to kneel between his legs. "I want you like this first," Rodney breathed over him, curling one hand round his cock and stroking slowly. "Please, just for a minute," Rodney added, before taking him in his mouth and going all the way down on him.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," John whispered, pushing up helplessly. Then he closed his eyes and just _shuddered_ , trying to hold on as Rodney swallowed around him. In the back of his mind, he knew where Rodney was going with this, why Rodney seemed to want him dazed and strung out with pleasure. Still, when it finally happened, when Rodney pulled off him and then hiked his legs up and back, John was still a little unprepared for it.

"Rodney?" he gasped, eyes wide open now. And he knew Rodney had heard the panic in his voice from the way Rodney eased back at once and started petting him gently, stroking one hand down his chest.

"Shh, John, just relax," Rodney murmured, brushing a kiss against his inner thigh and rubbing his cheek there. "It's okay, you'll like this, I promise."

He felt Rodney press another kiss higher up his thigh before Rodney pushed his legs back again and nuzzled at him for a moment, breathing him in. Then the kiss Rodney gave him after that shocked another gasp out of him, because it was wet and soft and the rasp of Rodney's tongue was right *there*.

"Jesus," John panted, feeling shivery and hot. Instinctively, he tried to close himself off, trying to prop himself up on his elbows. When he looked down, all he could see was Rodney spreading him open again, those wide blue eyes staring up at him with so much lust and tenderness.

"Ready for more?" Rodney asked hoarsely.

John wanted to scream things like _'No'_ and _'Stop'_. But suddenly he couldn't say _anything_ because the feel of Rodney's tongue drawing over him ripped all the air out of his lungs. He sank back down onto the bed, gasping, caught in a wave of pleasure so intense he thought he was going to come. And while he was still struggling for air, Rodney licked over him again, keeping him right on that edge before Rodney eased up for a moment, breathing very hard himself.

"God, I love you like this," Rodney whispered. "The way you taste, the way you feel . . .."

There was another hoarse murmur into his thigh, something he couldn't quite make out. But all of that faded away when Rodney leant in again, pressing his tongue deep inside him, and before John could stop himself, he let out a loud sob of pleasure. "Rodney," he croaked, writhing desperately now. "I can't—I _can't_ —" and he started clawing at the sheets around him, trying to get away. Because it was too much, and too intense, and he knew he wasn't going to survive it.

But Rodney's hands held him there, drawing his legs up high and draping them over Rodney's shoulders so he _couldn't_ run even if he'd had the strength. Then Rodney brushed his lips over him, pleading with him brokenly, whispering, "Please, let me do this; just _once_ , I promise!"

So the only thing John could do was throw one arm across his mouth and try not to scream. He lay there with his thighs trembling over Rodney's shoulders, breathing in long, broken sobs while Rodney kept opening him up and tasting him slowly, drenching him with pleasure until he was shaking and covered in sweat. And in the end, when Rodney pushed his tongue into him as deep as it could go, something inside him just shattered. After that, all he felt was the swell of heat rolling through his body and pouring onto his neck and chest in long, sweet throbs.

It took him a long time to recover from it. So long that his legs eventually slipped from Rodney's shoulders while he lay there shivering and panting. But he was too exhausted to worry about moving just yet, or about the smug _'I told you so!'_ speech he expected from Rodney any moment now.

Only, after a while, it occurred to him that the speech hadn't come.

"Rodney?" John whispered, a little bewildered. He pried his eyes open to find Rodney kneeling over him, face bright red and sweating, looking like he was close to losing it. The fingers that reached out to touch him then were trembling as they trailed through the wetness on his stomach and down between his legs.

"Can I?" Rodney asked him very softly.

John nodded, lifting up to let Rodney press into him, writhing on Rodney's fingers to get used to the stretch. He noticed the way Rodney shivered when he did that. So he did it again, and again, until Rodney closed his eyes and said, "Please," in a voice so rough it barely sounded like him.

He had to help a little at that point, getting both of them slick and ready, because Rodney was shaking so badly he could barely take care of it himself. But after Rodney settled between his legs, John lay back again, lifting his hips, letting Rodney slide slowly into him.

"Oh, _God_ ," Rodney whispered, shuddering helplessly, before Rodney clutched at his shoulders and started grinding up against him, face buried in his throat, gasping for air.

It struck John then that maybe _this_ was what it took to turn Rodney's world upside down, to break Rodney so completely that Rodney was trembling on top of him and begging under his breath. And the knowledge that Rodney was just as helpless in this as he was freed something in him, enough to let his walls down at last. "You liked making me come like that, didn't you?" he murmured in Rodney's ear.

Rodney froze inside him for a second before he made a desperate sounding noise and then started pounding into him like he couldn't stop himself.

John took it all with predatory smile, wrapping his legs around Rodney's waist, listening for the tiny, hitching sobs Rodney couldn't seem to hold in any more. He drew Rodney's face up away from his throat, wanting to see Rodney fall apart and getting everything he'd hoped for. Because Rodney had his lower lip caught between his teeth and Rodney was whining, sweating, shaking all over.

"Hey, it's okay," John told him, teasing Rodney's lip free, stroking gently over it with his thumb. "I'll let you do that to me now," he promised. "Whenever you want, Rodney," and then he cupped Rodney's face in both hands. "You can rim me in the jumper or in the labs; we'll do it everywhere—"

Rodney hunched up against him all of a sudden, pushing into him hard, chest heaving and sliding sweatily against his. And as he felt Rodney spurting deep inside him, John drew him close and stroked his face, watching him the whole time.

***

A few weeks later, John followed Rodney into the temple on MX1-329, where he soon found himself in what was now a very familiar position.

On his knees, with his forehead propped against the altar, he gave it up to Rodney so completely that his body felt like it was humming with pleasure and lights flashed behind his eyes. Only, when he came back down to earth, John realized that the humming _hadn't_ stopped and that there really _were_ lights flashing all around them. And by the time he'd struggled to his feet and had pulled his trousers back up, he could hear what sounded like an angry mob gathering outside.

"Okay, this is not good," he whispered.

"Didn't I just say that?" Rodney yelled at him. "What did you do?"

" _Me_? How is this _my_ fault?"

"Because _you_ were the one on your knees touching things!"

John glared at Rodney, outraged, and he was about to remind him that entering the temple had been _his_ idea in the first place when the mob rushed in and swarmed over them.

He heard screaming followed by some very loud complaining and then something which sounded a lot like chanting. And as Rodney was dragged even further away from him, John forced himself to stay calm, getting ready for the fight he knew was about to come.

Once they were all outside, the mob dispersed as suddenly as it had formed, and what he saw then astonished him. Because Rodney was sitting on a raised platform, perched on what looked remarkably like a throne, and there were several young men and women gathered at his feet, staring adoringly up at him.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding," John yelled, really quite angry now. "Please, will somebody tell me that they are _not_ worshipping him!"

Teyla came up beside him, patting him gently on the arm. "They believe that Dr. McKay brought back their goddess," she said.

"Yeah, they're really happy," Ronon added, walking over to join them.

John frowned at both of them, still confused.

"Earth shaking, flashing lights, great big hologram of an Ancestor," Ronon explained. "Didn't you see it?"

John bit his lip, feeling the heat start to crawl up his face. "We were kind of busy in there," he muttered. "You know, looking for ZPMs, things like that."

Ronon snorted out a laugh while Teyla gave him a pitying look.

"So, uh, we should probably think about rescuing McKay," he said quickly, trying to change the subject.

Ronon just laughed even harder.

"What?" John snapped, face bright red. Then he found something else to frown about after a group of young men literally shoved past him get to Rodney. "Hey, I helped too," he complained, feeling a little left out.

But none of them paid any attention to him. All the people at Rodney's feet were hanging on his every word. And as John watched Rodney soaking up the attention, he had a feeling they would be coming back to this planet a lot.

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of Rodney's email is an homage to the Woody Allen film "Everything you always wanted to know about sex, but were afraid to ask!"


End file.
